“We have sacrifices offered for sins once a year,” was the reply, with a proud sense of security.
“But this one sacrifice of Christ, once offered, avails for all time and for all people.”
“Well,” the young Jewess said, “I will accompany you, for it is at least a diversion. I am weary of pining for my espoused husband Joel. He has departed hence and I have had no tidings of him for two years, and I can scarce bear my life shut up in this dull corner of Rome, while I know in Jerusalem I should have a high place in all the feasts and joyful meetings of my own people. It was a woeful day for me when my father Ezekiel came hither.”
Rebekah was a fine Jewish woman, with the strongly-marked features and raven hair of her race, but her face was hard, and the expression of her mouth cross and discontented.
“I loathe this place,” she repeated, “and I marvel how any one like you can abide here. You are bound by no tie to old Ezra.”
“Yes, a strong tie,” Anna said; “by the death of his daughter my life was saved. I must be as a daughter to him while I live.”
“Well, I would not count such a man as a father,” was Rebekah’s reply. “When shall we start? the sun has nearly set.”
“As soon as you please,” Anna replied; “I must get ready my long cloak, and cover my head, and set out the evening meal, and light the lamp in the outer court, that Ezra may find all ready, and think I am gone to rest.”
“Then do not tarry,” Rebekah said, “for I am cramped with sitting on the low cushion, and long for air and sights and sounds pleasanter than those which greet me here. Hark! there’s the sound of a multitude shouting, there must be sport in the arena; food for the lions, no doubt.”